


Still Waters

by AnonEhouse



Series: Tiny Tony 'verse [10]
Category: Iron Man (Comic), Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Daddy Issues, Gen, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-24
Updated: 2012-03-24
Packaged: 2017-11-02 10:46:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/368137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonEhouse/pseuds/AnonEhouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony is thirteen. Tony is bored. Tony is determined to fill a gap in his knowledge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Still Waters

(If you are reading this on any PAY site this is a STOLEN WORK, the author has NOT Given Permission for it to be here. If you're paying to read it, you're being cheated too because you can read it on Archiveofourown for FREE.)

"I'm spending far too much My Time in the shower." Tony isn't sure when it happened, but all the female students and agents, and not a few of the male, have become _very_ distracting. So distracting that it's interfering with his preparations to escape when he's fourteen. "It wouldn't be such a waste of time if I understood the mechanics of it. I'm sure sex could be efficient!" Tony sighs and thinks wistfully of the days when he could work without his train of thought being interrupted by the memory of the curve of an agent's breast as she pants after demonstrating a judo throw... oh... there it goes again... back to trying to get past the 'need to' over to the 'done with' and be able to _think_ for a while. The whole process takes far too long, and it's hard to stay mentally focused on vaguely sexy thoughts, so a lot of the time he just gets tired and gives up and then he's all jittery and annoyed with himself. Tony's not used to working without all the facts.

He's doing his best to adapt to puberty. The pimples tend to go away once he remembers to get a bit of sun and not rub engine grease across his nose and forehead while he's thinking. The vocal changes are more of a nuisance, as he has an idea to create an A.I. based on verbally actuated learning systems, but it's pointless to even start that when he warbles in mid-word at unpredictable intervals. The added muscle in his chest and arms comes in handy in the shop, and it's not as if shower time is _unpleasant_ when he does manage to succeed. No, he likes it a lot, but he has a schedule to meet. He finally gives up and gets out of the shower, feeling very grumpy. The problem is that he doesn't have the data for proper fantasies.

The school director turned down his request for educational reading materials, which is totally unfair. " _Maxim_ and _Playboy_ wouldn't _care_ if a subscriber was thirteen, I'm sure!" Tony dries himself and starts getting dressed. The few separate crumpled pages he's found in the trash have been helpful, but unfortunately, context is lacking. And really, he can tell those women are _not_ normal, which is distracting. He looks at the photos and can't help analyzing them, trying to decide how much is surgical intervention, and how much is make-up and how much is clever manipulation of the photographs. And that just _eats up_ time. 

It's ridiculous, he's surrounded by healthy, attractive adults and he might as well be in a monastery for all he's learning about sex (the lecture from the doctor with drawings of various internal organs and warnings about diseases and the proper use of a condom so does _not_ count. He couldn't eat a banana for _weeks_ after that). 

He'd seen _The Man with the Golden Gun_ when he was seven (he had cried and pouted until he got permission to go with Jarvis because a GUN, made by screwing together a GOLD pen, lighter and cigarette case, that was just too Shiny cool to miss). There had been a lot of kissy stuff with girls which interfered with the good stuff- the shooting and explosions and car chases- but the golden gun was so great that he remembered the movie anyway. So he knows that spies are supposed to be proficient at sex as well as shooting, fighting, and disguising microfilm as freckles. 

But he can't get any of them to so much as tell him the optimal sequence of social interaction leading to sex. The most they'll say is that you introduce yourself and offer to go out to the movies, or to eat out, and then get to know each other, and if that works out, then maybe you'll move onto kissing and then they STOP talking. Dating sounds like far too much wasted time. Why can't a guy just tell a woman that he wants to have sex with her? Right now all Tony wants to know is what works best for a guy to think about while playing with himself. 

He had even written to Rhodey. And that hadn't been helpful. 

Rhodey had replied, _Yeah, Tones, I had 'the talk' with my Dad, but seriously, man, I am not writing it down. I know people read your mail. Don't worry about it. It's not complicated._

Rhodey _knows_ and Tony _doesn't_ , which is just so very, very wrong. It is _intolerable_ and Tony is going to figure a way to get the information he _needs_. "How do you get a spy to talk? Torture... no, inefficient. People will say anything under torture." Tony finds his socks and puts them on. "Also, they'd be mad at me afterward."

"Truth serum!" Tony grins and locates his shoes. "Well, something to lower inhibitions. Ethanol... sure." Tony remembers how he could get Dad to talk when he'd had enough to drink. There isn't any alcoholic beverage at school, or at least none Tony's ever seen while snooping around every place that wasn't locked up, and quite a few that were locked up, but not locked up thoroughly enough. "I bet half of the agents are dying for a drink." Tony has a well-equipped chemical lab and plenty of copper tubing. Distillation isn't rocket science, after all. Tony puts his shoes on and runs a comb through his hair. "Add esters and I can mock up something that tastes like bourbon. Or at least Johnny Walker." He starts to leave the room and then stops. "But they won't drink, because they're not supposed to get drunk." Tony taps his fingers on his chest as he tries to figure out a solution. "But what if they thought they wouldn't get drunk?"

***

"You see," Tony says as he holds up the bottle labeled with the crudely printed sketch of a turkey. "Alcohol enhances gamma aminobutyric acid, the neurotransmitter that is mostly responsible for binding with neurons and opening channels to admit chloride, which shuts off the electrical firing of the cell." The agents in the recreation room aren't really listening to him, but at least they're not hostile. Tony's become a sort of mascot. On good days, anyway. "So I created a chemical that neutralizes GABA." Tony pours 'whiskey' into a large paper cup. He gulps it down before anyone can stop him and doesn't bother to hide his reaction to the taste. He never did get to like the taste, just the way it makes him feel.

"Tony, when you get drunk off your ass, we'll laugh at you, you do know that?" the nearest agent says as he picks up the bottle. He sniffs it and shrugs. 

Tony grins and watches the clock. After ten minutes he stands on one leg and touches his finger to his nose. "The Leith police dismisseth us. See? It works." Tony opens a box he'd put on the table earlier, showing another dozen bottles. "These are all exactly like that bottle. I need to replicate the experiment to test the validity. It's for science!" Tony neglects to mention that the neutralizer was in the paper cup, not the bottled ethanol.

"Oh, well... if it's for science." Bottles are distributed around the room.

***

Tony is sitting cross-legged on the floor next to Agent Balfour, taking notes in his own private shorthand as fast as he can when the school director enters the room. Balfour continues talking, "and then we landed on the floor, and she shouted, 'Five Second Rule' and kept going."

The school director looks at Tony. "You do realize they've been telling you lies for the last hour."

Tony nods. "But they're _great_ lies!"


End file.
